Safehouse
by Panja Mysy
Summary: Wakanda is compromised, so Nick Fury has offered Steve and his team a safe place to recover and wait out the storm. It's a chance to heal and a chance to regroup, and Agent Heidi Bancroft is there to help them out along the way. BuckyNat is the only actual pairing, with mentions of VisionWitch and Staron. Rated T for now just because I had to choose one.
1. Welcome Home

**Heyo, guys! Been a while since I wrote anything on here, been kind of busy with Tumblr RPing and work and life and a nasty divorce and battling my life circumstances and trying to get myself back on my feet...but I'm feeling creative lately so I felt like starting something new!**

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When Heidi Bancroft became a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, she was pretty sure she knew what she was getting into. Covert operations, awesome top notch spy technology, danger, serious bouts of ass-kicing...but what she never counted on was the mission she currently found herself in charge of. Worst of all, she had no back-up on this one, it was all on her.

 _"Agent Bancroft, of course anything you need will be provided by S.H.I.E.L.D, none of the financial responsibility will fall on you. Your only requirement is to be present and keep your eyes open...it should be a simple job."_

Of course, what Director Fury had failed to tell her was how little time she had to prepare...and when the doorbell rang she was in the middle of dusting the living room, dirty blonde hair pulled back in a bandana, clad in baggy pink sweatpants and a gray tanktop. Not at ALL the image she'd hoped to portray when her mission began. So she answered the door grudgingly, forcing a smile onto her face despite the unfortunate circumstances, pulling it open to reveal the start of her mission.

There, on the doorstep of the secluded farmhouse she'd been given specifically for this assignment, stood several individuals, all of whom looked disheveled and tired and in much need of a good shower or meal or both.

"Hello, Mr. Rogers," she greeted the tall, blonde man who stood at the front of the haggard assembly, professionalism heavy in her tone despite her current state of dress, "My name is Agent Heidi Bancroft...welcome to your new home."

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When Heidi had been approached about the assignment at hand, to conceal and protect the former Captain America and his team of fugitives, she'd been less than enthusiastic about it, but Fury had been adament, claiming she was the best suited for the task and her initial refusal was...refused. So here she was, ushering the weary group into the foyer, playing the good host and encouraging them to kick off their shoes and shed their coats and make themselves comfortable.

Some of them did so without hesitation, Clint Barton, Scott Lang and Natasha Romanoff hung their jackets on the coat rack and kicked their boots off on the rag rug next to it, the three of them gave her smiles of thanks and headed for the living room...the other four stood there in silence, three of them keeping their eyes on their leader to ascertain the next move. Only when Rogers' shoulder relaxed and he shrugged off his jacket did Wanda, Sam and Bucky do the same. Only Bucky refused to remove his boots, he was glancing around nervously like he expected to be jumped around every corner...he was ready to run, ready to fight, at any given moment.

But Heidi managed to herd them all into the living room to join the more relaxed members of the group who had already claimed seats and kicked their feet up on the coffee table.

"Please, sit," Heidi ushered vaguely to the entirety of the living room as she leaned against the old upright piano where she could get a good view of all of them. When they'd all sat, she cleared her throat and began her well practiced welcome, "My name is Agent Bancroft, Nick Fury has given me the job of providing you with a safe place to lay low...and this is it. You're welcome to anything and everything you find here and if there's anything more you need, S.H.I.E.L.D will be more than glad to provide. There's a thousand acres of land surrounding this farm and you all are welcome to puruse any hobbies or past-times you feel inclined to as long as they don't draw attention to our location. There are enough bedrooms that no one will be required to share unless you feel inclined to do so, I only request you stay out of my room which is the first room on the left down that hallway there," she gestured to the main hall with her thumb, "Any questions?"

Steve cleared his throat and Heidi acknowledged him with a nod.

"S.H.I.E.L.D...they're not supposed to exist. You mind telling me exactly what's going on?"

"Captain Rogers, did you honestly think Fury was going to let S.H.I.E.L.D die? We're a brand new organization, only those proven loyal to the original intention of it were chosen to continue it. We're all on your side, sir...you can trust us."

"Hydra got in before...who says they won't do it again?" Natasha spoke up, but her tone was honestly curious, not judgemental.

"Because we know what we're looking for this time around," Heidi assured the assassin, "The selection process is ten times as rigorous and detailed, background checks so thorough we'll know every time you picked your nose...no one gets in without Director Fury's specific say so."

Steve still didn't look convinced and Bucky's dark expression made it very clear he wasn't either. Natasha, however, looked placated and she leaned back into the couch with her legs crossed in a relaxed fashion. No further comments about the organization were brought up so Heidi opened the floor for other questions.

There weren't any. Everyone knew the drill, this was their second safe house since Wakanda. Wakanda had been threatened by dozens of countries for harboring them and Steve had decided putting T'Challa in that situation was unacceptable so Bucky had been dragged from cryofreeze despite his concerns against it...the book was still out there and the words could be learned by anyone with a mind to do so, he firmly believed it was unsafe for him to be awake. The team had all assured him it was better for him to be with them then left behind, so he'd unhappily joined in the flight from Wakanda to the first safe house Sharon had set up in France...when that one became compromised, Fury had been contacted and he'd set up their current location.

"Barton, I've been told to inform you that your family is safe and secure, but they're still under heavy surveillance so you're not allowed to visit them yet."

Clint's face fell slightly in disappointment, but he nodded in acceptance of the information, Natasha squeezed his hand in sympathy.

"Alright, well, I'm gonna be the first one to claim the shower," Sam's voice cut through the silence and he stood abruptly, "You guys can sit here and sulk and feel bad about life all you want but I'm tired of smelling like a homeless guy. Falcon, out!"

A few amused chuckles followed his exit and even Bucky's lips tilted slightly into a small smile and Heidi felt the nervousness of the akward first encounter of her houseful of fugitives melt off her shoulders. She picked up the dust rag she'd been using earlier and commenced her cleaning while the rogue superhumans filed out to claim their rooms and gather their bags from the quinjet they'd arrived in. Captain America never was known for being inconspicuous...a quinjet wasn't exactly covert, but it was quick and they all fit in it so it was somewhat practical, she supposed.

"I'm so tired I could sleep right here in this pile of shoes..." Scott mumbled as he dragged a faded orange duffle bag over the threshold of the front door.

"Just make sure everyone knows you're in there or you might get squished," Clint teased as he followed with a bag half the size of Scott's, looking amused by the struggles of his friend and his overstuffed duffle.

"I meant THIS size," Scott replied with a roll of his eyes, "I can't just shrink anytime I want, those RAFT bastards took my suit."

"Must suck to have to rely on a suit to be special," Clint chuckled and nudged Scott's arm as he passed by and headed for the staircase, "Don't worry, I'll take care of you guys if anything happens. I can make a rubber band-paper clip launcher lethal if I need to."

Heidi actually believed Clint could do exactly that...a paperclip to the jugular could probably kill someone, but she smiled at the banter none-the-less, appreciating the humor instead of the deadly implications.

The sound of a throat clearing behind her made Heidi jump slightly in surprise and she spun around to come face to face (or face to chest, rather) with the Winter Soldier.

 _No, Heidi, that's wrong. That's not who he is anymore...James Barnes. BUCKY Barnes. He's an ally, not a threat._ She forced the lump of fear in her throat down with a hard swallow and she raised her eyes to meet his as she willed her pounding heart to calm down. His expression was unreadable, but the set of his mouth seemed to say "nervous" and she knew she'd read that minute cue right when he took a step back from their unexpectedly close proximity and dropped his gaze to the hardwood floor.

"Thank you," he said quietly, his gentle voice was a major contrast to his unkempt, rough appearance, "For the risk you're taking. Thanks."

And, with that, he turned and walked out of the room, moving almost soundlessly despite the combination of heavy combat boots and wood flooring...it was almost disconcerting. Heidi took a deep breath and exhaled over the course of several seconds, calming down and chiding herself for being so paranoid when his only intention had been to thank her.

She returned to her dusting and hummed quietly to herself as she listened to the sounds of footsteps on the floor above her and the running water of the shower. Occassionally, someone's voice would reach a level that allowed her to make out what was being said.

"Hey, Terminator, this is my room! I ain't bunking with you if you were the last human on earth." That was Sam, most likely addressing Bucky.

"You think this door frame is solid enough to hand a pullup bar?" Clint.

"I get the shower next when Steve is done!" Wanda.

The agent smiled slightly to herself and was beginning to think maybe it wouldn't be so bad living in a house with these people...they all seemed to be pretty normal, aside from obvious things like Bucky's metal arm and Steve's larger than life biceps and Natasha's electrified bracelets...

"Excuse me."

Speaking of Natasha, the unexpected female voice behind her made Heidi jump yet again...this was becoming a pattern, wasn't it?

"Yes, Ms. Romanoff? Is there something you need?"

Natasha looked like she wanted to laugh at the agent's surprise, but she simply smiled winningly and nodded towards the window that looked out on the front lawn.

"Where should I park the jet? It's a bit obvious sitting out there in the yard, don't you think?"

"Actually...yeah, I was thinking earlier that Steve Rogers needs to look up the word 'unobtrusive' in a dictionary. The barn closest to the house."

She handed the assassin a remote control and pointed out the button at the top.

"The whole side will slide open, it's big enough to conceal the jet inside."

Natasha gave a small salute with the remote and spun on her heels to saunter out of the house to the jet to put it away. Always cleaning up after her boys, it would seem.

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A few hours later, everyone was clean and good smelling and milling around the house now that they'd settled in their various rooms. Clint had taken off towards the woods after muttering something about making a new bow, Natasha had followed after him a few moments later with a small smile on her face, Steve and Bucky sat together in silence in the living room, Scott was passed out in his room, Sam was on the front porch scanning the horizon for potential threats, and Wanda was seated on a stool against the kitchen island with a potato in one hand and a peeler in the other as she assisted Heidi in putting together a meal for all the hungry mouths that would be searching the kitchen for sustenance soon enough.

"What are we making exactly?"

Heidi held up a bag of frozen salmon steaks with a sheepish look on her face.

"I, uh, didn't know you guys were coming today," she admitted, "Fury said tomorrow. So it's kind of slim pickings tonight. I've got these, potatoes and a bag of fresh picked green beans. Not much but I'll head into town tomorrow for more. Anything you want to add to the list?"

Wanda let out a little laugh, but there was no amusement in it at all, and she set aside the first fully peeled potato with a far away look in her eyes.

"Not many people know how to cook the kind of food I'm used to," she said quietly, "And the only one who cared to try is...not here."

Heidi made a mental note to search for some Sokovian dishes and practice making them, a little bit of home comforts might be the thing Wanda needed to find some peace. The blonde pulled a second stool up to the island next to te redhead and grabbed a potato and a knife to assist in the potato peeling.

"I know what you all are going through right now is tough...but I know things will work out in time. The world needs to cool off for a while and everyone needs to be apart for a bit. Sometimes absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Is that an American saying?" Wanda asked with a half smile, "It sounds like something an American would come up with."

"I have no idea, actually," Heidi laughed lightly as she focused on peeling the potato and not her knuckles, "But it's true."

"Perhaps."

Most of the meal preparations continued in silence from then on until the smell of salmon and boiled potatoes and grilled green beans filled the house, drawing the two super soldiers from the living room and Scott from his snooze upstairs.

"Something smells awesome!" he mumbled as he plodded down the steps and into the kitchen to inspect the pot of now mashed potatoes. The sound of his stomach rumbling made Steve clutch his own in sympathy hunger as he and Bucky came around the corner into the kitchen.

"Hey, someone wanna tell bird boy and the two master asassins it's dinner time and we're not gonna wait for them?" Scott asked as he pulled down a plate from the cupboard and started dishing potatoes onto it. Wanda rolled her eyes at the newest team member's lack of manners, but she turned on her heels to go spread the news nonetheless.

A few minutes later found them all seated at the large oak table with their plates piled high, matching looks of delight on every face as they practically devoured the meal. Scott and Clint were done in record time, both leaning back on two legs of their chairs and patting their overstuffed bellies dramatically.

"Stuuuuffed," Clint groaned.

"I could eat more," Scott challenged half-heartedly.

"Put your dicks away, boys, this is no time for a measuring contest," Natasha stated dully as she set her fork aside, the comment earned her matching looks of shocked disgust from the two 90-something year old super soldiers from across the table. Steve choked on his mouthful of green beans and Bucky slapped him on the back...with his left arm, which only succeeded in turning Steve's choking into a yelp of pain and a coughing fit.

Heidi shook her head as she poured Steve a glass of tea and handed it to him in an attempt to calm down his coughing. Natasha was looking like the cat who swallowed the canary at the way these events had unfolded...and the reason was obvious. Steve and Bucky had momentarily forgotten the misunderstood comment and were laughing loudly, both sporting bright smiles that made the corners of their eyes crinkle from the sheer force of them. Steve had his arm draped over Bucky's shoulder and Bucky's right hand was clutching his own stomach as if he was holding himself together. It was a sight that stopped everyone's forks on the way to their mouths, caused Clint to set all four legs of his chair back down and a silence to fall over all present except the two life-long friends having a good time over Steve's momentary misfortune.

But it wasn't long until Bucky realized all eyes had landed on him and the laughter stopped immediately, the joy in his eyes replaced in a split second with alarm and self-consciousness, the smile melted off his face and turned down into a frown, brows furrowed in a way that expressed something akin to pain.

The mood was effectively killed and Steve looked as if his heart would break at any moment. Thankfully, Clint was there to save the day.

"Natasha, look what you did! You and your dick jokes almost cost us our brave leader!"

Scott giggled, Wanda snoted into her drink, Steve rolled his eyes, Natasha gave her best friend a wink of approval, Sam flat out guffawed and Heidi stifled her laugh with a mouthful of potatoes. Natasha went into a long explaination to Steve and Bucky about the figure of speech and, by the time dinner was over, even Bucky was relaxed again.

Bellies full for the first time since they fled from France, the others retired to their rooms, yawning and looking comfortable and relaxed...most of them anyway. Sam, Steve and Bucky still looked stiff and poised for anything.

All in all, though, Heidi felt like the first night of her new assignment had been successful. She'd report to Fury in the morning, for now she'd follow her housemates' leads and head for bed.

Maybe this assignment wasn't so bad after all.

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 **Well, there's the beginning, let me know what you all think! :D**


	2. A New Weapon

**Well, let's get this story rolling!**

 **Thanks to PrimeReader for your review and suggestions, I'm always up for ideas and prompts and the like to add in if you've got any!**

 **Thanks to Lisa for your encouragement for this story and for listening to me oogle over Bucky and tell you all the little things I discover about him xD**

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Clint was up at the buttcrack of dawn, moving silently along the hallways till he reached the kitchen. Humming to himself, he pulled open the cabinets one by one on his hunt for those precious ground up beans that he would use to create the elixir of life. Bingo! The red plastic container was exactly what he'd been looking for...coffee was coffee, he wasn't too picky about the brand.

He dumped a healthy amount of the grounds into a filter and started the coffee maker, mostly just because he wanted a cup for himself, but the others would probably appreciate it too when they woke up; he knew Bucky wouldn't be too far behind him, the nightmares never allowed the poor guy much sleep.

Clint had always been an early riser, but today he was awake for a specific purpose: he was going to arm himself again, even if that meant he'd have to go back to the very basics. He and Natasha had had a long walk through the nearby woods the previous day and he'd scouted out several perfect types of trees for his project so he was eager to get back out there and get started!

Pouring a cup of coffee, he took it with him to the front porch to lean against the railing and watch the sun rise over the green hills, mist hovered over the lower spots of the terrain and he felt almost like he was back on his own farm for a moment...and immediately felt a wave of homesickness wash over him. He missed his wife and kids and wondered, not for the first time, when he would be allowed to see them again. When would this choice he made be forgiven? Maybe it never would be, maybe choosing what he believed to be right had permanently ended his life as a hero...at least the kind of hero people thought they needed. He believed the same things that Steve Rogers did, that the accords were fallible and would eventually be used to control them like weapons and maybe even used for agendas they disagreed with, that major organizations can become corrupt and it was best to keep themselves out of the hands of one, that James Buchanan Barnes was a victim and not a villain...after all, if anyone knew what it was like to not be in control of your actions and hurt people against your will, it was him.

He did not regret his decison. Not for one second.

Huffing a tense breath out of his nose, Clint pushed himself away from the porch railing and took his now empty cup inside and set it in the sink. He'd clean it later, for now he had other things to do, more important things.

A quick stop was made by the barn to grab his "bug out bag" from the quinjet and then he was off at a trot across the field towards the distant collection of trees. Everything he'd need for the day's work was in the pack on his back and he smiled to himself out of eagerness to get started, skilled eyes scanning the trees as he passed the first ones on the edges of the forest until they spotted the perfect one.

Clint skidded to a stop under the massive branches of a huge white oak tree and nodded approvingly at the branches he'd piled there the day before with Natasha, he moved a few of them aside as he inspected them closer until he chose one he considered to be perfect.

"Come here, you little beauty," he mumbled as he held the rather large branch up like it was a trophy, "Perfect."

Time to begin the long, yet very relaxing process of creating a recurve bow from his chosen piece of wood. He shrugged the backpack of bow making supplies off his shoulders and dug around in it for a moment until he produced a hatchet, with it he began chopping away at the bark and outer part of the wood to form it into a long, flat stave. Years of practice and perfection of this skill resulted in a nearly perfect piece to work with and Clint inspected it with a satisfied nod. Measuring the length of the stave with his eyes, he took a pen from the backpack and marked the areas for the grip, the nocks for the string and the curve of the limbs before leaning some of his weight on it to test the flexibility a second time. A few more hacks of the hatchet and the unrefined shape of the bow could be identified even by an amateur, and Clint Barton was no amateur.

It bent beautifully, but returned to it's straight shape immediately and he knew he'd chosen well. Now came the shaping of the bow it's self and he became momentarily stumped when he realized he didn't have a vice to hold the bow while he shaped it...but he was nothing if not resourceful and he soon found a tree with a split in the middle that held the fledgling bow in place quite nicely. Taking out his trusty draw knife, he began the repetative task of shaving off layers of wood to thin it out and forming the limbs of the bow, thins strips of wood fell at his feet as he worked, meticulously measuring both ends to be sure they were perfectly even. A few more passes on each end, a couple more measurements, a few glances with well-trained eyes and the bowmaster was satisfied. He unwedged his creation from the Y of the tree and held it up to double check. Perfect, as he knew it would be.

The draw knife was put away and a hunting knife was brought out, along with a flat file, and Clint sat on the grass with a relaxed sigh, one end of the bow in his lap. Slowly, painstakingly, he cut away at a section of the bow limb and filed gently until he had formed a perfect little groove for the loop of a bowstring, he flipped it over and did the same with the other end, comparing the two to be sure both grooves were equal and the same. Perfect, of course.

Now came the hard part. Pulling some paracord from the bag, he tied a string of it to both ends of the bow and stood up from the grass, moving his entire little operation back across the field to the fenceline. He hooked the bow around one of the fence posts and gave an experimental tug on the paracord, watching the bow bend as he checked for weak points. Any flaws noted were very carefully taken care of by removing tiny bits of the wood at a time, evening out the pressure and assuring the integrity of the limbs. Another pull, further this time, a tiny flaw, an easy fix. Another pull, another flaw, another fix. Rinse and repeat as many times as it took until no ominous creaks reached his ears.

A quick run over with the flat file and several smoothing strokes of sandpaper and the bow laid finished on the ground at Clint's feet. He was sporting a pleased and proud smile as he looked it over one last time for anything out of place. He found nothing wrong this time and he happily pulled an extra string from his bag, looping it first to one end then bending the bow behind his calf to attach the second end. He grinned like a fox as he held it up and pulled the string back experimentally, it felt sturdy and reliable in his hands, although it was nothing special like his old Tony-Starkarized bow/fighting staff...there was something comforting in the simple feel of the wood. A little varnish and a bad ass decorating job and this bow would be a very stylish and deadly weapon in the marksman's hands.

Delighted with his hard work, he grabbed up his bag and headed for the farmhouse at a dead run.

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Everyone was excited about Clint's creation, and the entire group gathered on the porch and front lawn to watch as their resident sharpshooter practiced shooting tin cans off of haybales at a hundred yards.

Heidi was, of course, familiar with Hawkeye's legendary skill, but to see it in action was a whole new experience and she found herself entranced long after the rest of the household had abandoned their observation and went about their own business again. She watched with wide eyes, amazed at each ping of the soda cans as the arrows embedded in them. She was a good shot with a gun, sure, but even S.H.I.E.L.D agents missed their mark occassionally. 200 shots later and Clint Barton hadn't missed a single one...he was amazing.

She thought back to a conversation she'd heard once between a young boy and his mother as they examined the "Heroes of New York" action figures in a toy store window.

 _"Who's your favorite, honey?"_ the mother had asked.

The young boy immediately piped up that Thor was the greatest and the mother had nodded her agreement.

 _"Which is your least favorite?"_ Which, to Heidi, was like asking a crazy cat lady which kitten was the cutest...

 _"Hawkeye,"_ the boy had replied without a thought _, "He's nothing special, he just shoots arrows. That's not a superpower."_

Watching the archer now, Heidi believed with all her heart that Clint Barton was a superhero with an extraordinary power...maybe even moreso than Thor, because it took a lot of courage for a normal human being to take a bow and arrow into a battle against gods.

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 **So, I may or may not absolutely adore Hawkeye...and I feel like he deserves so much more appreciation for his loyalty and bravery and steadfastness. Sorry for the lack of dialogue, but I'm focusing on giving each character a bit of appreciation and page time before delving into much action and such. Gonna focus on some emotions and Heidi's getting to know them all first so she can fit into the plot better later on.**

 **By the way, this is legit how you make a bow in case you were wondering :)**


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